


pillows

by squirmymochi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Desperation, Don't Like Don't Read, Humping Pillows, M/M, Omorashi, bladder desperation, omovember, pee desperation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 23:57:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16691404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squirmymochi/pseuds/squirmymochi
Summary: Lance ruts against the pillow again, his teeth sinking into his lip as his bladder throbs beneath his skin. He’s kneeling on his bed in the castle with his fluffiest, softest pillow stuffed between his legs, his hands pressing into the thick, feathery material to add some pressure to his crotch. He lets out an involuntary whine as his bladder pulses again, all the water and juice from earlier in the day practically begging to get out.Omovember day 20 - using a pillow to help them hold it





	pillows

Lance ruts against the pillow again, his teeth sinking into his lip as his bladder throbs beneath his skin. He’s kneeling on his bed in the castle with his fluffiest, softest pillow stuffed between his legs, his hands pressing into the thick, feathery material to add some pressure to his crotch. He lets out an involuntary whine as his bladder pulses again, all the water and juice from earlier in the day practically begging to get out.

He hasn’t had a chance to go to the bathroom since he’d woken up that morning--he’d been too busy with training, gaming with Pidge, and helping Hunk bake cookies for the rest of the team--and now everything he’d drank up until that point is catching up with him quickly. He’d started to get the urge to go around two hours ago, but he’d been having so much fun with his friends that he’d put it off until the last minute, and before he’d actually had a chance to go, Coran had declared that it was time to clean the castle and closed off the bathrooms.

He curses himself for not speaking up before the others had gotten to work--it wouldn’t have taken very long, only one or two minutes and then he’d be out and ready to help. But he couldn’t bring himself to voice his need in front of everyone--that would have been far too embarrassing, even for him. And now, almost an hour later, he’s absolutely at his limit, resorting to practically humping a pillow to keep the ocean in his bladder from leaking out.

Another small, breathy wine escapes past his lips as a jet of piss forces itself past his sphincter muscles and leaks into his urethra. He can practically feel it at his entrance, seconds away from spurting its way out.  _ No, no, no, _ he thinks with a groan, shoving the pillow further into his crotch and rolling his hips into it desperately, doing everything he can to hold it in. The added pressure helps to keep him in control, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before the inevitable happens.

It feels like his bladder is at maximum capacity--he’s positive that he’s never been this desperate in his  _ life _ . At this point, he’s not even sure that he can stand up without completely soaking his pants, let alone make it to the bathrooms on the other side of the hall. He feels sweat bead across his forehead and drip down the tense lines of muscle on his back from the exertion of holding his piss. He’s shaking, vibrating uncontrollably, which does nothing to help his situation, but he can’t help it. He’s running out of time, and quickly.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a knock at his door, followed by Keith’s voice calling out a soft, “Lance?”

_ Fuck! _ Lance thinks as a short stream of piss leaks past his opening and dampens the crotch of his boxers.  _ Keith, please,  _ please _ just go away! _

“Are you in there?” Keith asks from the other side. To Lance’s horror, the door begins to slide open as he speaks. He barely has time to change positions, sitting cross-legged on the bed with the pillow on top of his lap and his hands on top of the pillow, before Keith steps into the room.

“H-Hey, buddy,” he stammers, hoping his sweating and vibrating isn’t too noticeable. Keith eyes him suspiciously, and he resists the urge to squirm under his gaze--for more reasons than one.

“What are you doing in here?” Keith asks slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Everyone’s helping clean the castle.”

“I-I was just,  _ ah, _ cleaning my room,” Lance grits out, trying to subtly press his hands into the pillow to gain some relief.

“Why?” Keith asks, looking around. “It’s already clean. Shouldn’t you be helping the rest of us?”

“I will!” Lance squeaks, pressing his thighs together as tight as he can. “I’ll be out in- _ mmh! _ I’ll be out in a second.”

_ Now please, _ he adds mentally,  _ get out before I completely embarrass myself in front of you! _

Keith doesn’t look satisfied with his answer in the slightest. He crosses his arm, leaning against the doorframe and fixing Lance with an unamused stare. Lance can feel beads of sweat dripping down his temple, and unfortunately for him, Keith seems to notice them as well.

“Are you sick?” he asks with a frown, pushing himself off the wall and taking a few steps towards the bed. Lance leans back, taking a hand off the pillow to wipe at his face and mourning the pressure on his crotch.

“I’m fine!” he assures Keith, shifting his hips subtly as he returns his hand to its original position. “It’s, um, it’s just a little hot in here.”

“You’re flushed,” Keith says, ignoring his excuses and pressing a hand against his forehead. His skin is cool and rough and calloused, and normally Lance would be reveling in the contact, but right now all it does is take some of his attention away from his dire need to pee. “Have you been drinking enough?”

_ Way too much, _ Lance’s brain answers for him, his bladder throbbing once again. He presses the pillow against his crotch even harder, hoping it comes across as natural. “I’m good,” he promises breathily, arching his back in an attempt to grind his dick into the mattress beneath him.

Once again, Keith doesn’t seem convinced. “Should I go get Coran?” he asks, his tone almost concerned.

“No!” Lance exclaims, eyes going wide. The last thing he needs is  _ another _ person in his room, watching him try to keep it together. Plus, that would mean Coran would take longer to clean the bathrooms, and that’s certainly not gonna do anything in Lance’s favor.

“Well, what should I do?” Keith demands, a crease forming between his brows. “There’s clearly something wrong, so just spit it out already.”

“There’s nothing wrong! I just-  _ ohh! _ ”

Lance cuts himself off with a moan, doubling over and shoving the pillow in between his legs  _ hard _ as a long spurt of piss dribbles out of him. He rocks his hips from side to side frantically, rubbing his thighs together and clenching every muscle in his body in an attempt to keep what feels like literal gallons of pee inside him. He can’t help but let out another moan as he cuts off the tiny stream. It’s pure torture, having tasted sweet, sweet relief only to have it taken away from him a second later.

He’s only reminded of Keith’s presence a few seconds later, once he’s managed to get the unbearable urge under control. Immediately, he straightens his posture and relaxes his grip on the pillow, but it’s too late to save his dignity.

“You have to pee,” Keith states blankly, almost as if he doesn’t believe it. Lance wants to deny it, but he knows there’s no point anymore, not when it’s so painfully, blatantly obvious.

“Y-Yeah,” he confirms shakily, involuntarily rolling his hips up into the pillow again. Keith stares at him unsurely, not saying a word.

“I- I would have gone earlier, but-  _ ah _ \- but I kept getting swept up into different stuff, and then-  _ oh god _ \- Coran decided to clean the bathrooms, so I couldn’t.”

Keith keeps staring at him, his eyes darting down to the pillow still clutched against his crotch before coming back up to his flushed, sweaty face.

“I…” he starts, but nothing else comes out. If Lance isn’t mistaken, he almost seems to be blushing.

He doesn’t really have time to focus on Keith’s status, though. He’s so desperate, he feels like he’s about to pop like an overfilled water balloon.

_ God, don’t think about water! _ his brain screams as another tiny dribble leaks out of him. He can’t help but let out an embarrassingly needy groan, bucking up into the pillow again.

His actions seem to snap Keith out of whatever trance he’s in. He blinks a few times, fast, then takes a half step forward, arm outstretched as if he wants to help but doesn’t know what to do.

“Are you gonna make it?” he asks, a little awkwardly. Lance whimpers, feeling more sweat bead on his forehead.

“I dunno,” he admits truthfully, moving a hand under the pillow to get a better grip. “Shit, Keith, I  _ really _ have to go.”

He barely resists shoving his hand down his pants for better access--because grabbing himself in front of Keith is embarrassing enough  _ without _ having his hand directly on his dick--but he does pop the button on his jeans. He’s met with a tiny bit of relief, but it’s nowhere near the kind he so desperately needs.

“Is there… Is there anything I can do?” Keith fumbles, and yep, he’s definitely blushing. As if  _ he’s _ the one who should be flustered.

“U-Unless you can magically make Coran get- _ oh _ \- get out of the bathroom, t-then no,” Lance replies, then cuts himself off with a sharp hiss as another small stream of piss leaks out of his tip.  _ I’m really not gonna make it much longer! _

“I can ask him how much longer it’ll take? Or- or maybe I can distract him so he leaves, and then- um… I don’t know…”

Keith shifts from foot to foot awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Lance shudders, grinding up into the pillow and feeling the soft warm wetness of his boxers enveloping the head of his dick.

“I d-don’t want to bother him,” he manages, shaking his head from side to side. Keith stares at him incredulously, all of his earlier embarrassment gone.

“You don’t want to bother him?” he repeats, disbelieving. “Lance, you’re in pain. He isn’t going to mind, especially since it’s so… urgent.”

“I can wait,” Lance huffs, ignoring the signs from his body screaming that he very obviously  _ can’t  _ wait. Keith fixes him with an unconvinced stare as he squirms from side to side. His stormy purple gaze makes Lance shiver, and if he hadn’t already been at his most uncomfortable, that certainly wouldn’t have helped.

“I’m gonna go talk to Coran,” he says at last, turning towards the door. Lance feels panic rising up in his chest, and before he can stop to think he’s scrambling to get off the bed and stop him, the pillow shifting back between his legs.

“No, Keith, I-  _ oh my god! _ ”

He cuts himself off with a gasp as a long jet of piss escapes, soaking through his boxers and into the fabric of his jeans before he can stop it. He doesn’t  _ want _ to stop it--in fact, the last thing he wants to do right now is quit peeing--but he has no choice. He absolutely  _ will not _ wet himself like a little child, and especially not in front of  _ Keith, _ of all people. With all the self control that he can possibly muster and the help of his hands and the pillow, he cuts off the stream, letting out a pathetic little whine as he does so.

It  _ hurts _ . It hurts to stop after so many hours of holding it in, after almost getting the relief he craves. In fact, he can feel a few tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he stops himself. He clenches every muscle in his body, squeezing his eyes shut and rocking his hips from side to side as another small squirt escapes him, then another. It takes everything he has to get himself back under control, and even then he can still feel a sizeable wet patch on the crotch of his jeans. Oh god, it’s probably bleeding into the pillow, too.

He pries his eyes open and glances down, dismayed to find that there is in fact a small wet circle on the front of the pillow. His eyes dart up to meet Keith’s, and he’s surprised to find a flush of pink on the other boy’s cheeks.  _ He’s _ the one who’s blushing? Why?

Lance doesn’t have time to think much about that. Almost as soon as he’s fought off the first wave of desperation, another stronger one washes over him. He groans, tensing his muscles again and panting from the effort of holding it in, but this time it’s not enough. A seven-second spurt pushes its way past his clenched muscles and wets the pillow, although it barely brings him any relief. More tears join the few already in his eyes at the realization that he’s not gonna make it, no matter how hard he tries.

Keith seems to have come to the same conclusion, because a few seconds later, he comes to stand by Lance’s side. A hand massages careful circles onto his back, which is strangely comforting considering it’s coming from Voltron’s most socially inept paladin.

“Lance,” Keith says softly, still a bit awkward. “I think you might have to give up.”

“W-What?” Lance chokes out, then cuts himself off with another moan. “No, I can’t- _ ah _ -I can’t give up! I’m not a l-little kid!”

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Keith points out. “And besides, I doubt you can hold out until you get to the bathroom, let alone until Coran is done cleaning it.”

“I can!” Lance protests through gritted teeth, his face flushing even brighter at the accusation. To prove his point, he goes to take a step towards the door, and suddenly his bladder can’t handle it anymore. The pressure of the waistband of his jeans digging into his abdomen coupled with the weight of gravity pulling the water inside him down proves to be his undoing, and before he even realizes what’s happening, hot piss shoots out of him. The wet patch on the front of his jeans starts growing until it can’t keep up, and warm wetness starts saturating the top of the pillow he still has pressed between his legs.

He clenches his sphincter muscles with a groan, pressing his hands into his crotch in an attempt to hold back the rest of the flow, but it’s no use. He’s too weak and exhausted from holding so long to maintain control, and the flow barely slows down at all when he tries to cut it off. He sags against the bed defeatedly, tipping his head back and letting out an embarrassingly relieved moan, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he stops trying to hold it in. It feels  _ amazing, _ like taking a breath after a year without oxygen. He can’t help but wonder if holding for so long might even be worth it, just to feel like this again.

He’d almost forgotten that Keith was in the room, too caught up in his euphoric state to remember much of anything. But once his bladder has emptied most of itself and he starts to come back to his senses, the first thing he sees is his fellow paladin’s face. Keith is blushing almost as hard as Lance imagines he is, although probably for different reasons. He’s completely frozen in place, too, eyes transfixed on Lance as he finishes wetting himself and the pillow, which is squishy and completely drenched beneath him. His mouth opens and closes a few times, but nothing comes out.

Lance is almost too tired and relieved for the flaming embarrassment he should be feeling-- _ almost. _ He averts his eyes in shame and hopes that Keith isn’t really there, that he didn’t really see that. After all, something like this would be hard enough to hide in the mind-linking exercises Allura has them do on the daily  _ without _ Keith having witnessed it. He’ll probably tell Shiro, and Shiro will tell Allura, and soon enough the entire castle will know, space mice included.

He feels tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes, but before he can start crying for real, Keith’s voice calls him back to attention.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly, taking a step forward with a hand half-outstretched. Lance blinks up at him, his eyes watery and mouth pressed into a thin line.

“It couldn’t be helped,” Keith continues, finally setting a hand on his shoulder. His voice is surprisingly judgement-free. “You did your best, but it was inevitable. Plus, it could have happened to anyone. So don’t feel bad about it, okay, Lance?”

Lance sniffs, bringing a sleeve up to wipe at his nose and flinching when he feels that it’s damp. He looks down at his clothes and the pillow, wet patches clearly visible on both, and looks away again miserably. “I- I ruined my stuff,” he sniffles. “Everyone’s gonna find out…”

“I won’t tell anyone. And I’ll help you clean everything, too. It’ll be our secret.”

Keith smiles, hesitant but reassuring, and even though the tips of his ears are still pink and he’s still awkwardly bent over so he doesn’t touch the wet pillow, Lance finds that he believes him. “Okay,” he says, almost timidly, wiping at his eyes with his other sleeve.

“Okay,” Keith repeats, a little more confident this time. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! My omorashi Tumblr is [squirmymochi](https://squirmymochi.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


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